


Maybe that could be our thing (what do you think?)

by timothysdrake



Category: DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: I'm so sorry guys, M/M, PWP, Rimming, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-17
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-07-15 17:04:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7231108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timothysdrake/pseuds/timothysdrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You think it's cute when you're pushy." Dick can feel Wally's lips against the back of his neck, the gentle hum against his skin when he speaks. "I'm not so sure."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe that could be our thing (what do you think?)

**Author's Note:**

> This was for An because it was Valentine's day like a week ago and then she came home so idk pretend it's a gift for those things? (I also haven't read through this so it's not beta read I'm sorry)
> 
> It's basically just DickWally rimming that's it there's no point to this and for that I apologise come yell @ me on twitter I deserve it

There are birds chirping outside and he can feel the thundering of feet outside the front door as his neighbours start their rush hour, already wide awake.

Dick is truly awful at mornings. Mornings he has to wake up to, anyway, as opposed to the ones he's overworked or fucked himself into. Some industrial-strength coffee, whatever inappropriately sugary food he can find, and he'll be right as rain and good to go for the day. But this, he tries to explain to people, is why trying to make him go to bed at a reasonable hour is counterproductive: he is actually way less likely to do whatever he's supposed to the next day, because once he's in that bed, it's murder to get him out of it. It’s not like he could just _skip_ patrol anyway, Gotham needs him as much as he needs a lie-in, and it’s a constant cycle of abuse that keeps him away from his one true love.  
  
He's face-down on a pillow, curled in on himself. Almost every fibre of his being rebels, tired and obstinate, when he becomes aware that something is dragging him from sleep. But he can just about find it within himself to appreciate the feel of Wally’s hand resting on the back of his head, fingers gently running through his hair. Dick's not sure if it's an intended slow-burn wake-up effort, or just a touch for the sake of it.  
  
Dick rolls over onto his side and faces the wall, closing the distance between them; a slow sleepy smile works its way onto his face. Of course, his eyes stay adamantly shut. Wally's arm rests heavily, but not uncomfortably, across him now, hand splayed wide on his chest.  
  
"Morning," says Wally, sounding far too awake for whatever ungodly time it actually is.  
  
Dick doesn't even dignify that with an answer. Instead, he wriggles backwards a little, fitting himself into the warm curve of Wally's body, and takes hold of the hand in front of him, brings it up to his mouth, and kisses the tip of Wally's index finger. Wally makes a quizzical noise, nose brushing against his hairline and Dick can feel the curve of his smile. Dick pushes two of Wally's fingers unceremoniously between his lips, making a faint sound of satisfaction around them, then sucks up and down, once, twice.  
  
"C’mon Dickie," says Wally, voice light and teasing. "We have places to be, people to see."  
  
Dick shakes his head firmly, the fingers still in his mouth up to the knuckle. Wally laughs very slightly, but doesn't do anything besides shift minutely behind him. So Dick pulls the fingers out, slowly, licking them all the way up. He holds them in front of his face, spit-slicked. "Wally," he says barely above a whisper. "I think I need these in me."  
  
"You think?” Wally asks.

“Get them inside me now, West.” Dick grumbles, licking at the pad of Wally’s index finger.

“You’re so nice in the mornings,” laughs Wally.  
  
"Not kidding," Dick complains; he’s not whining, no matter what Wally would say otherwise. "Right now."  
  
"You think it's cute when you're pushy." Dick can feel Wally's lips against the back of his neck, the gentle hum against his skin when he speaks. "I'm not so sure."  
  
Undeterred, Dick guides Wally's hand down and back, pressing it against the curve of his ass. Wally could never resist the temptation to grope a little, and with the free reign he’s being given right now, he’s not shy in pinching the firm cheek he’s being offered. "I'm still wide open," Dick says, into the pillow. "See how you like it."  
  
Wally, finally, seems to be reacting appropriately. Dick hears the slight hitch in his breath, feels the way his upper body tenses.  
  
This is what makes waking up worthwhile, nearly, when it means lazy, blissed-out fingerfucking. Wally, to his credit, is usually more than happy to put his hands to good use if it'll put Dick somewhere in the ballpark of on time for whatever it is he's supposed to be doing, be it a meeting with the Bats or just starting the day at a reasonable hour. Wally’s unusually persistent about that kind of thing, despite the fact that Dick couldn’t care less if his day started at 5 o’clock in the evening if it meant not having to leave his bed. The feel of Wally's fingers on his tongue, curling and pressing in random patterns, has prepared him for it now; Dick feels hungry for it, a low warm flooding of want curling in his belly. He likes to squirm against the sheets, still rumpled from the night before, as he pushes back onto Wally's steady hand, fingers rubbing gentle circles on the smooth skin of the back of his thigh. Dick might feel guilty about being so greedy if he didn't know, from extensive experience, that the sight and sound of the whole performance leaves Wally with colour high in his cheeks and a not-at-all small problem that he presses against the base of Dick’s spine. Dick is always more than enthusiastic in taking care of it afterwards.  
  
"Nuh-uh. Not day,” Wally murmurs into his hair.  
  
Dick makes a noise that he hopes is angrier than it is pitiful, but he’s sure it’s another whine Wally would, at another time, tease him for. Not quite coherent enough to argue a yet unthought-of point, he instead shifts down just enough to let him grind his ass hopefully back into Wally's groin. Wally's cock is definitely interested. So why the rebuff?  
  
"Quit your whining, Dickie," laughs Wally, and shifts himself backwards slightly, breaking the full-body connection. Dick is halfway through another pitiful, begging noise when Wally says, "I just think it's time we changed up your wakeup call."  
  
Then he hooks his arm across Dick’s chest, pulls Dick towards him, rolling him onto his back. Dick, for the first time, deigns to open his eyes. Wally is propped up on one elbow against the pillow, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His hair is falling just above his eyes, and he licks his lips.  
  
"Okay," blinks Dick. "Yeah. Sure." His cock is stirring just from looking at Wally's mouth, and his stomach muscles clench slightly at the warmth he can feel flooding in his belly again. He's going to blow him, Dick guesses. Nice. That's just- Great. Dick is entirely prepared to accept that.

Almost exactly like he guess, Wally ruffles a hand through his wed-tangled hair – patronising? Probably, but Dick doesn’t exactly care right now – and then moves down the bed, pausing only to plant brief kisses to the scars on his chest, lips forming soundless words against a few of the ones closer to his heart. He bends one of Dick's legs at the knee, giving him space to position himself between them; Dick nearly props himself up against the pillows to see him better, and then decides that seems like slightly too much effort. Instead, he lies back, closes his eyes, and rubs his thumb across his own lips in an imitation of what Wally is about to do.

Except Wally decides now is the perfect time to tease him, licking and kissing a slow trail up the inside of Dick's thigh; considering the places that Wally claims they have to be, this seems rather irresponsible timekeeping on his behalf. Not that Dick gives a damn. Although his cock is getting impatient for the swipe of Wally's tongue, the warm heat of his mouth, the tingle of vibration when he hums around him, and, fuck, okay, Dick's super ready for this right now. Right about now. Seriously. Any time now.

Instead, Wally calmly parts his ass cheeks and licks a long stripe all the way up him, from the base of his spine to his balls. Unthinkingly, Dick moans, pretty equal parts surprise and pleasure. Okay. This. This is also totally okay. And Wally licks right back down again, only this time he stops at Dick's hole and circles it carefully. And far too _slowly_ in Dick’s opinion.

Dick doesn't even think, just wraps a hand around his cock and starts to stroke slow and lazy, the calluses of his hand familiar and perfect against the sensitive skin of his dick. He considers sitting up, again – fuck, to see Wally doing this – but he doesn't want to break the contact. His eyes stay shut, and he moans again, louder, higher, _needier_. It's an honest reaction, but also he knows Wally likes it. A lot. He likes to hear exactly what effect he's having, and it just so happens that Dick loves performing for him in this way, letting him know with moans and whines just how perfect everything is; and also, it turns out, the sound of Dick losing whatever composure he has left from their day – hey, leading a team of wayward teenagers requires _some_ effort, he has to remain professional and composed at all times -  has some kind of hotline to Wally's dick, in a way that visual and mental stimulation don't quite seem to match.

He can feel Wally's hot breath huffing against him, and Jesus if he isn't clenching and unclenching just from that. He's still pretty open from the night before, Wally didn’t go easy on him and just remembering the feel of his thick cock fucking hard and fast into him has his hole clenching around nothing, and he wants something in him right now. Wally seems to have stopped, and Dick tries, tired and sex-stupid, to work out what praise or encouragement he might be waiting for, but before he can get anywhere with that he feels Wally move in again, and start fucking him back open with his tongue.

Dick honestly thinks he might spontaneously combust, or just flat-out die. Instead, his dick jumps in his hand and he tugs at it, trying desperately not to speed up. He gasps aloud, breath being punched out of his chest from the way Wally’s spearing his tongue into his hole over and over. Because apparently Wally’s that talented now. "Holy fuck," he says eloquently, and then, for good measure, "Motherfucking shit, that's – God – yeah. Yeah."

Inexcusably, Wally pulls away. "God, Dick. Someone’s got a dirty mouth this morning, huh?"

"Fucking- _Really_?" Completely boneless and weightless as he feels, Dick still manages to open an eye and raise an eyebrow, staring up at the ceiling. "You're really going with that? With what you’ve just done?"

"Yup,” chirps Wally, and Dick's lying too flat to see his expression, can’t work up the energy or muscle control to sit up _at all_ , but he knows he's smiling. And then Wally’s mouth is back on him, around him, his tongue working inside him, before Dick knows what he's doing, his thumbs gently holding Dick's cheeks apart to give him better access.

Being eaten out by Wally West is somewhere on a list of things Dick has never even let himself make a list of, because they were such wonderful and beautiful possibilities that their unlikelihood would have made the list too upsetting. Now: groaning, wriggling, and letting the fuzziness of sleep blend seamlessly into the fuzziness of arousal, Dick seriously considers going back and writing that list out. It was stupid in the first place, to even pretend there were things Wally wouldn’t try with him, for him, on him, at least just once. And maybe - maybe dreams do come true. One of his certainly is right now.

It's probably only Dick's slow, sleep-deprived state – and boy will he be having words with Bruce later about how maybe he deserves more time for himself – that lets the whole thing last for as long as it does. If Wally had sprung this on him a few hours earlier, when he was soaring on adrenaline from a fight with an entire gang of arms dealers, he might easily have shot his load in seconds, just after the first feel of Wally's tongue on his hole fried a whole bunch of nerve endings in his brain. As it is, he's been leaking into his hand for a little while now, spreading precome over himself with his thumb and slicking the movement of his fist stripping at his cock, pretty much on autopilot. Eventually, he rubs the head of his cock more purposefully, and thinks, really thinks, about the fact that Wally West, _The Flash_ , is between his legs with his tongue up his ass, and that it's probably getting him off too.

Scratch that, he’s _definitely_ getting off on this. Wally’s tongue moves inside him in a series of pulses that Dick attributes to him actually using his powers in bed and the vibrations send jolts of electric energy shooting across his skin, through his entire body until he’s keening, loud and high and completely shameless.

Dick comes with a deep, satisfied groan, his cock jumping in his hand, streaking his stomach and chest. Wally, undeterred, licks him right through it until he's shivering and writhing through the aftershocks. "Ugh, God, stop," he mumbles, eventually, because he's not sure if it's possible to disintegrate from sensation, but if it is, it's going to happen right about now. Especially with how Wally’s hands are massaging his ass, his fingers tapping a restless rhythm against his skin in a way that signals just how much he’s holding himself back. Dick can feel the buzzing against his thighs, and Wally’s voice is almost static when he sighs.

Wally says, "I never thought I'd hear you say that." And Dick has to remind himself what he actually said before he lets himself open his eyes again, and looks up to see Wally sitting back on his haunches, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. He smiles with what looks like pride. Fucking rightly so. His dick curves up from between his thighs, thick and dark and so impossibly hard, and Dick has to wonder what part of all that, exactly, did it for Wally. The noises? The cursing? The total lack of self-control? Whatever it was, Wally’s wet and leaking, precum drooling down and looking at it just makes Dick _hungry_. He needs it in his mouth, like, yesterday.

He ignores the laughing, teasing voice in his head that reminds him that he did, in fact, have it in his mouth yesterday. It sounds far too much like Wally.

Dick struggles into a sitting position then leans forward to mouth sloppily against Wally's chest. He feels too fucked-out and taken apart to manage anything better than a wet, messy blowjob, but he he's pretty sure Wally won't complain. Maybe later he can find out how Wally would feel about proper reciprocation. After whatever meeting he’s supposed to be in, or whatever briefing they’re supposed to give. Maybe straight after. Maybe in the room. As long as Bruce wasn’t around. Or Clark. Well, maybe not at all then. His mind drifts though, and he lets himself think about Wally bent over a conference table, pants around his ankles and dick slipping and smearing against the hard wood, and Dick rimming him until he whines in the back of his throat. His brain momentarily and pleasantly short-circuits. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if there was a Super nearby, they’re too polite to interrupt anyway.

Wally appears to have caught him by the shoulders, while Dick was too caught up in his own thoughts. "C’mon, Dickie. Up, up, up! We’re going to have to get dressed now."

"But," pouts Dick, voice going high and whiny, and waves a hand vaguely at Wally's erection. "It's my turn."

"That's what’cha get for pushing, Dickie, we spent all our time on you." Wally grins, and before he gets off the bed he traces the tips of his fingers along his own dick, fingers swiping through precome and getting wet, sticky. He rubs them together and draws further away from Dick. "Guess I'll just have to jerk off in the shower."

"I wanna help," Dick insists, fluidly rolling himself off the bed and into a standing position in a way that is very telling of just how awake he finally is, and following him to the bathroom like the puppy Wally is apparently capable of turning him into. Dick wants to pout, shake his head. He should to be rolling back over in the bed, congratulating himself on a no-effort pre-breakfast orgasm, and refusing to turn up to anything before at least 11am, maybe 12.

Wally stops just inside the bathroom door, and he turns to face Dick like he's about to say something. Before he can argue, Dick gets a hand on his dick and strokes him from root to tip, once, good and hard, his hand still messy with his own come, and Wally's resolve visibly weakens.

"I'll be real quick," says Dick, and looks up at him through his eyelashes.

This should be too old a move to have any real effect, but Wally grins, "Okay. Let's break a record."

There was no real threat of Wally not letting Dick have his own fun – well, more than he’d already been given – but finally being granted permission is another thing entirely, and Dick jumps on the opportunity.

Dick pushes his spunk-slick hand up Wally's chest – hell, he's about to shower, it really doesn’t matter now right? – and reaches up to kiss him, slow and sloppy. To his delight, Wally kisses him back even slower, licking his tongue right into his mouth, making sure Dick really considers everywhere that tongue has been. It's hot and dirty and Dick whines when his cock gives a very interested twitch. Wally breaks the kiss to laugh, his eyes lighting up completely when he stares down between them, at where Dick’s cock is pressing half-hard against his hip. Dick mumbles something unintelligible against Wally’s mouth, and reaches his wet hand down between them to gather them both in a tight fist.

"What do you do to me?" Wally breathes against his mouth, when Dick finally picks up pace. Dick has no idea. Something in him seems to take sweet, kind, happy-go-lucky Wally West, and draw out a wicked streak a mile wide. Dick is absolutely in no way complaining.

"I wish I knew," says Dick truthfully, and turns on the shower.

They’re totally late, but Dick got two orgasms out of it, and the memory of Wally’s taste on his tongue is enough to get him through the most painstaking meeting with the Justice League ever. 


End file.
